


John should (not) drink alcohol

by Vanimelda4



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff, John is Perfect, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock is adorable, Teenlock, drunk john is my weakness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-12 20:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13554738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanimelda4/pseuds/Vanimelda4
Summary: Teenlock AU.John and Sherlock meet in high school. Sherlock is secretly in love. John is perfect. There is a party and John can't handle his liquor.





	1. chapter 1

Sherlock found himself at a party.  
And so far he hated every second of it.  
At just 15 years old he wasn't even supposed to be at this party.  
But John had asked him to come. So essentially it was his fault that he was here really.  
Stupid, perfect, brilliant, slightly older beautiful John.  
With his bright blue eyes and dopey smile and that one dimple in his left cheek that only appeared if Sherlock was really, really lucky. 

Sherlock had been hopelessly in love with John from the moment he had laid eyes on him.  
Even before John had even known he existed.  
So basically John could have asked him for the moon and the stars and everything in between and Sherlock would have gone and gotten it for him. No questions asked.  
And now here he was at a party in honor of the schools rugby team, because John had asked him to come.  
So far he had spent his time hiding in a corner and trying to avoid being jostled around by a sea of sweaty people he hardly knew as they were doing something Sherlock could only assume they thought was dancing.  
The people at his school were idiots.  
Well, everybody at his school but John was an idiot.  
Well, John was an idiot too. Just the good kind of idiot. 

Where was John?

 *****************************************************************************************************************

This whole mess had started when John had asked Sherlock to help him out with his science homework. 

'Mr. Parker says you're the best in your class, well, the whole school really, and you might be able to help me out.' John had explained himself after receiving a somewhat lukewarm response from Sherlock on his original request. 

Sherlock felt he had every right to be hesitant. The captain of the school rugby team did not just walk up to the dorky, loner kid nobody else talked to and asked him to spend time with him. On a weekly basis. That only happened in bad romance movies. And his personal fantasies. Oh god. This was not the time to think about his personal fantasies.  
Did John know? 

The first time Sherlock had seen John he had been wandering by the rugby field on accident. He was trying to avoid having to go to math class. Last time he had math he had had a bit of a row with the teacher. If the woman was going to teach geometric transformations she should at least teach it right.  
Things had been said. Rather loudly. And accusations had been made. All of this mostly by Sherlock. So he wasn't really planning on going back there. He'd ace the test anyway. Whether he'd actually attend class or not.  
And knowing this teacher she was probably relieved more than anything else to not see Sherlock in class so he'd probably not get reported for skipping class either. 

So he found himself walking past the rugby field on his way to the library while he actually should have been at math class when he suddenly heard shouting from the field. It sounded as if people were being tortured....or worse. Sherlock had sighed and rolled his eyes. This was exactly the reason he never partook in any sports. It was barbaric.  
He turned his head to the field to see what the cavemen out there were up to and stopped dead in his tracks.  
A short boy with a sturdy frame and short blond hair sticking out at odd angles had just tackled one of his teammates to the ground and was in the process of getting up again with a very pleased grin on his face. And a small dimple in his left cheek.  
Laughing the boy extended his hand to his fallen teammate and helped him back on his feet as well.

'I didn't hurt you too much, did I', he had asked. Still grinning that dimpled smile that would later become Sherlocks absolute most favorite thing in the world. 

'Oh, ha ha, laugh all you want. You caught me unawares, that's all. I can take you on any time any day, John Watson.'

(John Watson. Sherlock had stored that away in his mind palace immediately).

'I seem to catch you unawares a lot these days. There might be something wrong with you. Maybe you should see a doctor', John had said as seriously as he could. 

Laughter from the rest of the team.

'you know I love you, Greg.'

'I already have a girlfriend, John.'

More laughter from the rest of the team. 

John had smacked Greg on his ass, rather hard, and grinning they had both run off again to continue with the rest of the training. 

From that point on instead of attending math class Sherlock attended rugby practice. Not as part of the team of course. He didn't do sports. But just watching the wonder that was John Watson. 

He'd always make sure he wasn't seen by any of the players though. He knew these types of boys. He'd had his fair share of being locked in toilets, having his books thrown on the ground and his homework shredded at his old school. He wasn't about to experience all of that again. And besides, if he were to actually meet John he might find out John was actually not perfection incarnate as he imagined him to be and just like all the other rugby jocks. 

So Sherlock would hide amongst the edges of the field. Amidst the swooning girls. And watch John and admire him from afar. 

************************************************************************************************************************************ 

So naturally Sherlock had been more than a little hesitant when John had walked up to him in all his John-like glory just as he was getting his things out of his locker. Ready to go home. And asked him to tutor him in science.  
Up to that point Sherlock had been pretty certain John had no idea he even existed.  
A tiny voice in the back of his head had whispered to him it all might be a prank made up by the rugby team. They had somehow seen him watching John and now they had this elaborate plan set up to humiliate him. Using John to hit him where it hurt the most. His heart. 

But then John had smiled his doofy smile and said please and that he'd fail science for sure if Sherlock didn't help and had looked at him just so with those sea-blue eyes of his and of course he couldn't refuse John even if he tried. 

************************************************************************************************************************************* 

From that point on every Thursday afternoon after class Sherlock found himself in a booth at the school library much closer to John than he had ever hoped to be.

As it turned out John really was awful at science. 

Often he needed Sherlock to explain the same thing multiple times or he'd say that he understood something and then still managed to get the answer completely wrong.  
In other people this would annoy Sherlock to no end, but with John, he found it oddly endearing. 

John seemed to be genuinely interested in what he had to say. He'd never interrupt him as sherlock went of on an entirely off topic rant. He'd just sit there and smile at him. And he wasn't just pretending to listen either. Whenever Sherlock would stop talking John would almost always ask him something actually related to the topic Sherlock had been talking about.  
He never seemed to lose his patience with Sherlock and Sherlock soon realized his initial fears had been unfounded and John was indeed still utterly and completely perfect. John even seemed to enjoy spending time with him. Or at least he hoped he wasn't reading too much into the soft smiles John gave him. Sometimes even accompanied by his favorite dimple and the fact that on times he stayed after their study session was over. Just making small talk. Asking Sherlock about his hobbies and what he was planning for the weekend.

'I have an experiment planned on the growth rate of fungi in different types of soil', Sherlock had replied. 

'You do your own experiments? Why does that not surprise me', John had given him a surprised, dimpled smile accompanied by a soft chuckle and Sherlock had to think really hard about the chemical composition of asphalt to make sure he did not swoon at the sight of it.

'It's just a small one', he'd mumbled. 

'It's amazing, is what it is'. 

Whenever John praised him it was always so sincere and his face so bright that Sherlock felt as if he was basking in the light of a thousand suns. Or maybe he was just blushing and sweating out of awkwardness. It could go both ways really. 

He would never say it out loud in case he was reading too much into their interactions fueled by his own adoration for John and a whole lot of wishful thinking, but he was fairly certain John had started to see him as a friend.  
Which was so much more than he could have ever hoped for. Initially he'd never even hoped to think John would even see him.  
Thursday had quickly become Sherlocks favorite day of the week. 

********************************************************************************************************************************************************* 

After a couple of weeks their study sessions had moved from the library to Sherlocks bedroom. 

On several occasions some of Johns rugby teammates had found them in the library and remarks had been made that had turned Johns face beet red. 

One very tall boy with ginger hair had asked John if they were making any head way and another, Greg, had asked John if he wasn't working too hard and had winked at him.  
There had been a couple more remarks. Sherlock hadn't really listened to them. As far as teasing went this was pretty mild stuff.  
But John had turned bright red on several occasions and seemed to try and hide in his notes.  
Sherlocks heart had sunk a little at this. Perhaps John was not as comfortable with being seen with him as he thought.  
And who would blame him really. He was the school freak after all. Nobody liked Sherlock. So why would John.

Not long after one of the rugby boys had interrupted their study session once again John had asked Sherlock if it might be a better idea to have their Thursday get togethers at one of their houses instead. So they wouldn't be disturbed. And John would have an actual chance at passing science class.  
Sherlock once again found himself unable to refuse John anything and so had agreed. They had settled on Sherlocks room in the end and so last Thursday as they were sitting side by side at Sherlocks desk the dreaded party had come up. 

'Did you know the rugby team is having a party next weekend?' John had asked him. Pretty much out of nowhere really. 

'I am well aware, yes', Sherlock had replied. He hated parties. Far too many people who didn't like him. And not just that. Drunk people who didn't like him. A clear recipe for disaster if there ever was one. 

'I was thinking of going'. 

'Of course you are. You're the captain of the rugby team. And you like parties'. 

'That I do', the corners of Johns mouth lifted up mischievously, 'I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go too....maybe....that is....if you don't have an experiment on, or something.....I mean....'

'You're rambling John'. 

'That does not answer my question'. 

'Question?'

'Will you go? To the party? With me? It'll be fun! Get you out of the house for once on a weekend. Meet some people. Maybe...I don't know. Do you dance? Dancing could be fun. I mean....if you like dancing....'

'You're still rambling John'.  
'You're still not answering'.

'Will it shut you up if I say yes?'

'Maybe. Are you saying yes?'

'Oh, for gods sake'. 

'I'm totally taking that as a yes'. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************* 

And so here he was at that stupid rugby party because John couldn't stop talking and he couldn't say no. Just wonderful. 

He had however insisted on not arriving together with John. Far too many people to see them together. He wouldn't do that to John. So they had agreed on both arriving separately and finding each other there.  
Sherlock had not expected the party to be this busy. Practically the entire school seemed to be here. And so he had not yet been able to find John. Until now. 

Seemingly out of nowhere John entered the room where Sherlock was skulking in the corner. John was pretty spectacularly drunk.  
Drunk but still breathtakingly gorgeous. His blond hair this time not windswept and sandy from rugby practice, but neatly styled back. He was wearing a navy blue sweater which was, in all honesty, doing wonders for his eyes and some very....very tight jeans which were doing wonders for a completely different part of his anatomy.  
Sherlock felt his mouth water and felt quite under-dressed next to John in just his black jeans and a black t-shirt.  
He had half a mind of just making a quick get away, but before he could make up his mind completely John saw him and all hope of escaping vanished. 

'You!' John shouted and pointed at Sherlock. It was starting to become more and more obvious how incredibly drunk he actually was.  
'I have been looking ALL over for you'. 

With an unsteady gait John made his way over to Sherlock and only managed not to fall over by grabbing on to Sherlocks shirt. 

'Sorry', John slurred as he hoisted himself back to his feet rather ungracefully, 'it's cool. I'm fine.....as soon as this room stops spinning.'

'John, are you drunk?' Sherlock asked hesitantly. 

'Maybe......maybe a lot. How many of you are there?', John replied and laughed. Inside Sherlocks chest a thousand butterflies took flight. Drunk John was utterly endearing. 

'I'm glad you came. I was really afraid you wouldn't and then I was afraid you would and then I had a couple of drinks....'

'John?'

'Yessir'. 

'You're rambling', sherlock smiled down softly at the rambling, adorable mess that was John Watson, 'and you're still holding on to my shirt.' 

John looked at his hands first and then back up at Sherlock and smiled wickedly. Hands clenched even tighter in the black fabric of Sherlocks t-shirt. Stretching it ever so slightly. Sherlock was not entirely sure where this was going and if he was going to like it. 

'And you', John slurred. Smile not leaving his face, 'are absolutely gorgeous.'

And before Sherlock had time to react John pulled him down by his shirt and smashed their lips together.  
The kiss was messy and uncoordinated and tasted like beer, but to Sherlock it was heaven.  
John Watson was holding him. John Watson was kissing him. His lips were on Johns lips. He moaned involuntarily and John pulled him even closer moving one of his hands to the back of Sherlocks neck while the other still held on tightly to his shirt. 

If Sherlock had died in that moment he would not have cared. As far as he was concerned life did not get better than this and he silently thanked whatever deity he owed this miracle to. 

But however much he wished it the kiss sadly did not last forever and far too soon John stepped back again and untangled his hands from Sherlocks now severely stretched shirt.  
He was about to say something but it seemed the entire rugby team had chosen that exact moment to sweep into the room. 

As soon as they saw John they shouted his name and pulled him with them completely. Thankfully oblivious to Sherlock hiding in his dark corner of the room. 

Sherlock took this as his cue to leave. He had had a bit too much excitement for one day and he needed to think. Think about what had happened. Think about John. Drunk John. Deliciously gorgeous and utterly endearing drunk John. His brain needed time to process it all and he couldn't do that with the party erupting all around him. 

And so he left. He'd talk to John again next Thursday at least. When they both had time to think. And were sober again. In Johns case anyway. He smiled briefly.  
But what if John had only kissed him, because he'd been drunk. What if, when John sobered up, he'd be completely disgusted with what he had done. Sherlock knew how his classmates saw him. Why would John be any different. Even Johns friendship had been a miracle on its own. It would be unwise to even hope for anything more.  
What if after tonight John would break of their study sessions....their friendship.....oh god....it was too horrible to imagine. And so Sherlock stealthily left the party. Making sure he was not seen by John or any of the rugby boys. And headed for home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another party. Another kiss. Both boys are idiots.

A couple of weeks later Sherlock found himself at a party again. And, once again, it was all because of John. 

***********************************************************************************************************************

The Monday after the rugby party Sherlock had been very reluctant to go to school. He hadn't heard anything from John all weekend.  
Granted, he hadn't really made any effort to contact John either, but still....  
As far as Sherlock was concerned there were two possibilities: either John was so spectacularly hungover that he needed the rest of the weekend to recover or, and this was the option he dreaded the most, John was so disgusted by what he had done that he was going to break all contact with Sherlock from now on. 

Was John even attracted to men? Sherlock honestly had no idea. They had talked about a lot of things during their study sessions, but never.......that.  
John was single. That much Sherlock did know, but had he ever had a girlfriend? Or boyfriend? Surely he must have. Every time the rugby team had their weekly practice there would always be a gathering of girls swooning over the players. And John in particular. John could have any girl he wanted at school. But did he want any of them? Sherlock had never asked. On the one hand because he was afraid he wasn't going to like the answer, but also because he had been afraid John would ask him the same question in return. He would have had to tell John that he'd never had a relationship. He'd never even been on a date. What would John have thought of him then....  
Most of the school already thought he was strange and undesirable he did not want to add John to that particular list. 

********************************************************************************************************************************************

All through the school day Sherlock had been a nervous wreck. He kept expecting John to pop up out of nowhere, pull him to the side and tell him the kiss had been a mistake. The party had been a mistake. He had been drunk and had finally figured out he didn't want anything to do with Sherlock anymore, because how could they even consider going back to being friends after something like this had happened?  
But when he finally did see John that day something Sherlock had not even considered as a possibility happened. 

Just as Sherlock was getting his books out of his locker at the end of the day and had resigned himself to the fact that John probably wasn't even in school today, too embarrassed to even show his face, he was startled out of the negative thought spiral that had plagued him all day by a familiar voice:

'Hey, Sherlock'. 

It was John. Sherlock spun himself around to the sound of that voice so fast that he almost dropped his books in the process.  
If John was embarrassed or stressed there was nothing about his demeanor that gave it away. He wore the same easygoing smile he always did (no dimple this time) and his posture was relaxed. Book bag slung over his left shoulder and his jacket only zipped up halfway. 

'Hey', Sherlock replied. Eloquence escaping him at the moment. 

John did not reply. He just smiled and pulled his hand through his hair. Messing it up in the most delightful way.  
Sherlock, already strung out from the insecurity of a day spent waiting for John and the inevitable rejection that would almost certainly come; or at least, that's what his imagination had been telling him in an increasingly louder voice as the hours had slowly slid by, did not handle the awkward silence building between them well.  
So he ended up blurting out the first inane thing that came to his mind:

'How was your weekend?' He asked. What he had meant by this was: how was the rest of your weekend. After the kiss. Do you have any regrets. Please say you don't. Why didn't you call me. Or text me. Please still be my friend. Please John. You are the most important thing to me and I can't lose you. 

But being new to these kinds of emotions Sherlock had trouble articulating. 

John seemed to be taken aback a bit by this question. Smile slightly faltering as he shifted his weight from his right leg to his left. 

'Er..yeah...alright', he answered, 'I went to that party...'

'How was it?' Sherlock wasn't even sure himself what he was asking this time. Was he asking about the party or something else completely...

It took John a couple of seconds to answer. Casting his eyes to the ground briefly as he thought his answer over before he cleared his throat and looked back at Sherlock. Smile firmly back on his face. Only slightly more tense this time. Although, that could just be Sherlocks imagination. A projection of his own anxiety on John. 

'You know', John said, 'I got so drunk at that party. And every time I get drunk I have this thing that when I'm sober again I don't remember anything at all from what happened while I was drunk. So yeah. I have no idea. I don't remember. Not a thing. So.....'

'Oh', was all Sherlock said. 

'Yeah, it's weird really. Happens every time. Did you end up going?'

'Er...no....no...I.....erm....I stayed at home. Experiment', Sherlock lied. He doubted anyone besides John had even noticed him at the party. If John didn't remember what happened and he just told him he hadn't been there they would never have to talk about the stupid party ever again. The kiss would never again be mentioned and he could keep John as a friend. 

'Maybe next time then', John replied, looking down the now empty hallway to his right as if something there had caught his attention. 

'Yes, maybe.' Sherlock followed Johns gaze with his eyes, but he couldn't find anything of interest in the empty corridor. 

'Are we still on for Thursday?' John asked 

'Yes, of course'. 

With the conversation returning to for them familiar territory John also seemed to become his normal self again. The familiar smile (this time with dimple) back on his face.  
'Great! See you at your place then, yeah?'

Sherlock just nodded and before he could add anything else John had left.  
Were they back to normal again?  
John seemed to be completely himself by the end of their exchange. Blissfully unaware of anything that had happened between them that went beyond the borders of friendship.  
If John could forget the kiss, could Sherlock too?

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************

As it turned out Sherlock could not. 

They pretty much settled back into their old routine of study sessions in Sherlocks bedroom on Thursdays. Their friendship back to what it had been before, but Sherlock could not help his mind from wandering every time John was close to him now. How his lips had felt against his. Johns firm grip on his shirt. Slightly stretching it. Johns hand on his neck. How John had dominated the kiss, even in his intoxicated state, because Sherlock had no idea what he was doing. The taste of the kiss. Mostly beer, but also something distinctly John.

On several occasions now he had been so engrossed in his own musings that he completely missed something John was saying and John had ended up snapping his fingers in front of his face to get his attention back. 

'Planet earth to Sherlock', he had said, grinning, 'what were you thinking of? Must be something really interesting. Should I be jealous?'  
John had added with a wink and Sherlock had turned bright red and had stammered something about an experiment he was working on. He wasn't sure John had bought it. John could NOT find out. 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

And so Sherlock came up with a plan. A stupid idiotic plan he told himself as the party was starting to get underway around him. But since the plan was already in motion now there was no point in backing out again. 

The plan was that if he could just tell John how he felt. Get it all off his chest. Just once. He would be able to put all of these feelings behind him and continue his friendship with John without ruining it.  
The only problem was that, if he were to tell John how he felt, John would know and the friendship would most likely still be over.  
So that's where the party came in. If he just told drunk John, sober John would never find out. Sort of like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde only in this situation both were John and both were incredibly sexy and perfect in every way and constantly derailing Sherlocks train of thought. 

So, since Sherlock never got invited to parties, he had managed to convince John to help him organize a party of his own. John had been a bit skeptical at first, but when Sherlock had told him that he would like to try and make more friends, be social, and that he felt a party was the best way to do so John shook his head, shrugged and said: 'yeah, alright.'

They had chosen a weekend where Sherlocks parents were out of town and John had taken care of the invites. Of course most of the rugby team was invited and a handful of other people Sherlock couldn't care less about if he tried, but for Johns sake he had pretended to be excited at least. 

To his surprise people had actually shown up. Probably Johns influence, Sherlock thought. There wasn't really anyone more popular at school than the rugby team and John being the captain must have helped get people to Sherlocks house. 

The only problem had been getting John drunk. He had refused to drink at first, but as the party got under way and people seemed to be enjoying themselves and even Sherlock had seemed to be drinking (well, pretended to anyway. He had secretly also bought some alcohol free beer and kept pouring these for himself) John soon loosened up.

It didn't take much for John Watson to get drunk. Pretty soon he was happily dancing to the music, slightly off beat and slightly slurring his words.  
Sherlocks heart swelled at the sight of him as the room seemed to get just slightly warmer as memories of the previous time he had seen John drunk came flooding back. 

However, he did not seem to be the only one to notice how adorable a drunken dancing John really was. Soon John had a group of girls gathered around him and they all seemed to flirt shamelessly with him. Dancing a little bit too close, leaning in to whisper things in Johns ear, touching his arm as they did so.  
John smiled and nodded at something one of them said. A blond girl, with long curly hair, big breasts an and insanely short skirt. 

Suddenly it dawned on Sherlock that his plan might also backfire on him horribly. He had been so preoccupied with the thought of finally being able to speak out his feelings without consequences that he hadn't even considered that if alcohol lowered Johns inhibitions to the point that he would even consider kissing Sherlock he might also kiss someone else. Like the scantily clad blond girl. Would she allow John to forget about the kiss afterwards? Most likely not.  
Oh, god....what had he done. 

Sherlock panicked and grabbed Johns arm, pulling him away from the dancing crowd, almost toppling both of them over in the process, earning him a nasty look from the girl. 

'I need to talk to you', Sherlock shouted over the music, 'alone.'

John grinned at him. Face beaming and completely relaxed. 'Am I in trouble?' 

Sherlock just rolled his eyes and started pulling him along. John just followed along obediently.  
'I'm definitely in trouble.'

***********************************************************************************************************************************************************

And that's how Sherlock found himself alone in his bedroom with a “slightly” inebriated John.  
Now that he had gotten to the final stages of his plan he wasn't really sure how to start. 

'John...'

'Present.'

'Yes....John....I know.'

'Sorry. Can I sit down. This room is all spinny.' John made a slightly uncoordinated turning motion with his hand and plopped himself down on Sherlocks bed without awaiting a reply. 

'John', Sherlock started again, mustering up all of his courage. This was most likely the only opportunity he'd get to air his heart once and for all, 'I have something to say.....to you.'

'I knew I was in trouble', John muttered under his breath. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and smiled. How he wished he had the courage to tell John what he was about to say when he wasn't drunk. This would just have to be enough for now. 

'I'm not really sure how to say this', he started again, 'I'm just new to all of this. These feelings....'

John was giving him his full attention now. A puzzled and slightly concerned look on his face. 

'I just care a lot about you John. You're my best friend. My only friend even. And I just don't want to lose you. I know you don't remember any of it, but after that other party. The rugby party. After we kissed there....'

It was here that John interrupted him: 'I thought we weren't supposed to talk about the kiss.'

'Excuse me'. Sherlock was caught completely of guard by this. Johns remark derailing his meticulously rehearsed speech. 

'I thought we weren't talking about that', John said. Clarifying absolutely nothing. 

'I thought you couldn't remember!'

'Of course I remember.'

'You clearly said...'

'I know what I said. I thought you didn't like it. The...the kiss. Seeing as you left the party right after it so I lied and said I didn't remember to give you a chance to go along with the lie if you didn't want anything to do with it so we could still be friends and forget about the whole thing even though I messed up.' John blurted out in one big, slightly slurred sentence. 

Sherlock blinked at him a couple of times. Processing all this new information. If John remembered the kiss then he would surely also remember tonight. What had he done. 

'You lied?' He said. Voice small. 

'I thought you knew!' John blurted out, 'you always know everything. You notice everything. Who forgets everything when they're drunk, every time!'

'Well....until recently I thought you did'. What should have been a heartfelt declaration of love was quickly turning into an argument. This was not how Sherlock had planned this.

John sighed. He seemed to be less drunk by the second. 

'When I'm drunk', he said, 'I lose my inhibitions. Just like everyone else. I do things I don't normally do. I forced myself on you and I'm sorry. Maybe that's what I should have said in the first place instead of making up a lie.'

'I should go', Sherlock said. Voice so soft now that it was barely audible. What a stupid plan this had been. If he had been more observant when it came to John and had not been so blinded by his own doubts and feelings all of this could have been avoided. Surely the friendship was over now.  
After their drunken mistake of a kiss John, good and gracious John, had decided to give their friendship another chance by basically pretending it never happened. All under the assumption that Sherlock was well aware of the lie. Sherlock had not been and in the process he had now ruined their friendship. 

'You can't go, this is your house', John sighed. Still sitting on Sherlocks bed. 

'Alright. Then you go.' Sherlock was avoiding looking at John at all costs. Too embarrassed about being wrong and too heartbroken about having ruined everything and losing John. 

John didn't reply. He just got up and walked towards the door. But not through it. He stopped in front of Sherlock. 

'Look at me Sherlock.'

Hesitantly Sherlock turned his gaze back to John. Tears trying to well up at the corners of his eyes. 

'What were you going to say to me. Just now', John asked. 

'It doesn't matter'. 

'For the record. I didn't mind.'

'Mind what.'

'Kissing you.'

Sherlock had a hard time keeping up with what was happening. What exactly was John saying? 

'If you're going to kick me out anyway I might as well tell you', John continued, 'I'd been wanting to kiss you for months before that party. I knew you didn't want to, you know, be with me that way, so I didn't act on it, but that night.....I was so nervous about you being there. I was just planning on dancing with you. Honestly. But I'd had a couple of beers too many and seeing you in that tight shirt and those jeans....I couldn't help it. I'm sorry Sherlock. I've buggered up this whole friendship. If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but, if nothing else, I'd really like to remain your friend. I hope in time you can forgive me.'

This time John did turn towards the door. His gait steady. Their conversation seemed to have sobered him up quite a bit.  
But before he could open the door Sherlock once again took his arm and stopped him in his tracks. 

'Wait, John.....you wanted to kiss me?' Sherlock asked. Unable to keep just a hint of hope out of his voice. 

John must have picked up on it, because slowly a hesitant smile was starting to form on his face.  
'For ages.'

'That's technically impossible, John.'

'All right. For months then. Ever since I laid eyes on you.'

'I had no idea...'

'Well, now you know.' 

For a moment neither of them said anything. John standing by the door. Sherlock close by his side, hand still on his arm. Their gazes fixed on each other. 

'What were you going to say just now?' John asked again. More a whisper than actual words. 

'That I'd really like for you to kiss me again. That is. If you want to. I mean....'

Sherlocks sentence was cut short by the wonderful feeling of Johns lips on his. This time it was nothing like the sloppy and desperate kiss from last time. This time John was taking his time. Softly his lips touched Sherlocks. Leaving small kisses there. One of his hands moved back to Sherlocks neck again tilting his head down so John could reach him easier.  
Sherlock sighed. He felt John smile against his lips. 

'You're smiling', Sherlock said without moving their lips away from each other. 

'I'm happy.'

'You're drunk.'

'I'm a happy drunk.'

Sherlock chuckled and moved his hands to the small of Johns back . 'Is this okay?' He asked. 

'More than okay'. John said and kissed him again. 

'I'm glad Mr. Parker recommended me to you.'

John pulled back a bit at this remark. He seemed slightly embarrassed.

'About that...', he said, 'I kind of lied about that too. I never really talked to Mr. Parker about getting someone to help me with my work. My science grades were fine. I just needed an excuse to talk to you....I'd seen you around the rugby field and couldn't get you out of my mind so.....'  
John had stopped kissing Sherlock and was staring at his feet. 

'I find that hard to believe'. 

'Come again?'

'You're horrible at science!'

John beamed a smile at him. Dimple and all. 'I was getting straight C's before I met you.'

'I rest my case' 

Johns smile turned mischievous now: 'besides, I couldn't concentrate on the work properly. I found you to be very distracting.'

'Maybe you should find yourself another tutor then.'

'Never'. 

John kissed him again. Slightly more desperate this time. A hand once again gripping the front of Sherlocks shirt as he slightly parted his lips and followed the seem of Sherlocks with the tip of his tongue. Sherlock opened his in surprise and John took this opportunity to move his tongue into Sherlocks mouth. 

The feeling was wonderful. Amazing. The best thing Sherlock had ever experienced and over way too soon as far as he was concerned. 

'What do you want, Sherlock?' John asked as they were both regaining their breath. 

'I'd like for you to kiss me when you're sober too.'

John smiled again. 'Gladly, he said. Giving Sherlock a soft smile. 'I'll kiss you whenever you want. God, I've wanted this for so long. I just never thought you'd want me.' 

Sherlock laughed. 'I felt exactly the same, John.'

'Turns out we were both idiots.'

'Pretty much.' 

After that they just held on to each other for a while. Enjoying the embrace and the fact that they were finally able to be this close to each other. John nestled his face in Sherlocks neck. Breathing him in blissfully. After a moment of silence he asked: 'did you organize this party just to get me drunk again?'

Sherlock froze in his arms. Not quite sure what to say. In a way he had, but hearing John say it out loud his plan sounded absolutely abhorrent and on a moral gray scale to say the least. 

'I....' he stammered. 

'I don't mind if you did', John said. Face still nestled against Sherlocks neck. He placed a soft kiss just beneath Sherlocks ear. 

'Not for the reason you think', Sherlock blurted out, 'I wanted to tell 'drunk you' how I felt withouh 'sober you' knowing. Get it off my chest, but keep the friendship. I never thought you'd want me when you were sober. I wasn't planning on taking advantage of you. Honestly!' 

John lifted his face and smiled softly at Sherlock. Arms wrapped around his waist. 'I know.'

Sherlock sighed a sigh of relief. 

From the party the sound of something crashing to the floor and shattering into a million pieces reached them. They both cringed. 

'We'd better get back there', John said. 

Sherlock nodded. 

But before Sherlock could open the door and head out again John stopped him once again. Gently placing a hand on his arm.  
'We'll continue this tomorrow', he said, 'sober me hasn't kissed you yet and he'd very much like to.'

A smile spread on both their faces and Sherlock turned slightly red. 

Another crash from the party reached their ears and they quickly made their way back to see how much explaining Sherlock would have to do once his parents came back on Monday. 

Sherlock couldn't find it in him to worry about that though. He was just looking forward to tomorrow. He was very curious to find out if sober John was just as good a kisser as drunk John.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a one chapter story, but it got away from me.   
> I have such a soft spot for drunk John.


End file.
